That Others May Live series
by ltcoljsheppard
Summary: This is a recounting of the history and backstory of John Sheppard, who began his career as a young Airman in the US Air Force's elite unit known as Pararescue Jumpers and ended up, years later, commanding the military unit of an intergalactic expedition
1. Chapter 1 Angels Do Wear Battle Dress

**Title: "That Others May Live" **

**Chapter One - Angels Do Wear Battle Dress**

**Author:** ltcoljsheppard **Email:**

**Rating:** PG

**Word count:** 4339

**Summary:** This is a recounting of the history and backstory of John Sheppard, who began his career as a young Airman in the US Air Force's elite unit known as Pararescue Jumpers and ended up, years later, commanding the military unit of an intergalactic expedition to another galaxy.

**Notes:** This is for all the Sheppard-centric fans out there who, like me, yearns to learn more about what makes John Sheppard the man he is today. This is totally non-canon and comes from the author's sole imagination and belief of one possible path John Sheppard's career/life could've taken.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the character John Sheppard, Mitch or Dex, nor anything having to do with Stargate: Atlantis. There is no profit made by writing this story and no offense is ever intended toward the characters mentioned or the Stargate franchise owners and creators.

**** **The characters of Mason Richter, Teddy, Oliver, Wilks and Jed Falcone are the creation of the author and do not belong to the Stargate franchise.

________________________________________________________________________

_When Americans are stuck behind enemy lines the Air Force dispatches a search and rescue team to retrieve them. Pararescuemen, or PJs, swoop in like angels on the wing, drop out of helicopters with medical equipment and weapons and risk their own lives to ensure those in distress are brought safely home._

"We live up to our motto, 'That Others May Live'. If you're out there, we'll come and get you. We'll bring you home. Nobody gets left behind." -- 1LT. John Sheppard, 1992

_____________________________________________________________________________

May 1986

~ * ~

"Okay, Stringbean," the Master Sgt. looked over the new recruit with an experienced eye, "you think you have what it takes to be a PJ, huh?"

"Yes, Master Sergeant," the young man replied.

"Good enough. So now that you're here, at your very first duty assignment, we're going to teach you how to incorporate everything you've learned, about tactics and techniques, into this squadron. We'll teach you what we know and you're going to show us what you know." The elder man paused as he studied the young Airman standing on the tarmac. "How old are you, kid?" The Air Force veteran asked, narrowing his eyes at the young man. _'Man, hnh,'_ the Master Sgt. scoffed silently, keeping his concerned thoughts to himself. _'This kid is barely into manhood, he's just a boy.'_

"I'm nineteen, Master Sergeant," the kid answered obediently, looking straight ahead and standing at attention as the older man walked around him, scrutinizing him like a piece of meat hanging on a hook inside a freezer.

"You passed the requirements for this course?" Master Sgt. Falcone asked as if awed by the kid's presence in his unit area.

"Yes, Sir.... Master Sergeant," the hazel-eyed beanpole replied, daring to shoot a glance at the barrel-chested uniform shirt that paced back and forth in front of him.

"The name's Jed, kid," the man told him and the kid looked over at him in confusion.

"Sergeant?"

"My name…is Jed. You're a bit of a stringbean, ain't ya?"

John looked down at himself then straightened again, suddenly feeling very anxious about his place on the team. He was in good physical shape, tall and lean and muscled "just enough", but he suddenly felt small and frail in the face of this close scrutiny. He swallowed thickly and his expressive eyes must've flashed his disappointment as his heart sank in his chest.

Master Sergeant Falcone stopped and cocked his head, staring at the boy. His eyes narrowed in concern when he saw the deep hurt that etched across the kid's face before the young Airman could stow it.

"Hey..." Falcone said. "Sheppard, I didn't mean nothin' by it. You okay?"

John nodded, although the dark sensation - that he wouldn't be allowed to stay here either -seemed to settle on him like a heavy blanket that pricked at his skin. The other guys in the already-formed unit were sitting around the hangar area reclining on top of scattered crates, sharing glances and whispers now and again but otherwise they all just stared at him like a cockroach under a glass.

Falcone walked up and stood in front of the gangly kid and looked at him. He drew in a slow deep breath and let it out, placing a large meaty hand lightly on John's shoulder. "Didn't mean nothin' by it, Stringbean..." he said. "Call me Jed, that's my name. That there is Wilks, Teddy, Dex, Oliver and Mitch."

The young Airman looked over at the guys who smiled back and nodded as their names were stated. John noticed that Dex and Mitch were about his age, so they must be pretty new to the unit too. Then he looked back up at Falcone.

"Welcome to the Pararescuers, kid," Jed offered with a smile and scooped up John's hand to shake it vigorously. Pulling the lad over toward the others, he introduced Senior Airman John Sheppard to the PJ unit he was newly assigned to.

The older veterans of the unit took to the three younger ones with little effort and Sheppard, Mitch and Dex became fast friends who were nearly inseparable. In the months that followed Sheppard's arrival, the seven man unit trained heavily together. They also slept, showered, ate and played together every minute of every day until their actions and thoughts seemed to become like one entity and Master Sergeant Falcone developed a deep-seated fondness for John.

He saw something in that boy that few men had, hell that few PJs had. It was just a young seed right now, but Jed knew in his heart that the tousle-haired kid with the elfish ears and boyish grin was something special. He didn't know why, exactly. Call it a hunch, but he was certain that John Sheppard would someday come into his own. He'd show all those people who'd turned their backs on him just how special he was..._ 'One day, you'll walk on the moon',_ Jed had alluded to him quite often.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They trained and trained and trained, and then they trained some more, to be prepared for the worst possible situations imaginable and to respond to unthinkable scenarios whenever and wherever disaster strikes. They were prepared to undertake any course of action in order to recover lost or wounded servicemen and women around the world, as well as any American civilians who might find themselves far from home in hostile territory.

Squadron members of John's Pararescue Jumper unit, also known as PJs, trained and drilled every single day to hone their skills to perfection. They jumped at least twice a week, either by freefall or a static line, sometimes with equipment and other times without.

They trained for sea, mountain and desert rescues, on foot and by all-terrain type vehicles, and practiced close-quarters combat operations where they swept and cleared rooms, took down the bad guys and rescued the good guys.

"A PJ operative must be solid in heart, mind and spirit, because when the good guys are under fire and getting shot up it's the PJ who willingly puts himself in the center of that situation in order to aid and assist," Falcone urged his boys on during their drills.

His PJ's primary function was as recovery specialists and with their intense and highly skilled training as emergency medical responders they were invaluable assets in both humanitarian and combat environments. They were experts in evading the enemy and recovering personnel and that was their life's goal. It was the PJ's mission 'to bring them home'.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"There's only **one **simple reason, kid, why the Air Force has invested so much time and effort... not to mention a lot of money, into molding you into one of the most intensely trained warriors in the world --" Falcone told John, as the two worked together putting together survival packs in the hangar area one afternoon.

John lifted his attention from his packing and looked at his mentor, who continued with his own task without interruption. He waited for the second part of that statement to be offered and then realized, when it wasn't forthcoming, that it had been spoken with the intention of having the student complete the thought. John sat back on his feet, as he knelt on the cement floor, and thought about his response.

"... because your life and the lives of others depend on me."

Jed stopped what he was doing, his hands halting in motion as he turned to look over his shoulder at the boy. He blinked at him thoughtfully for a moment and then smiled softly at him. "And yours, John," he added. "Your life depends on you too."

He hadn't really thought about it that way before. He'd been so focused on being the best that he could be; for the sake of others, that it had not dawned on him that one day his training and skills would someday save his own life too.

"See?" Jed said, pointing at him with a carabiner in his hand. He spun around on the balls of his feet and sat down on the pack he'd been working on to give John all his attention. "That's why you're going to be great at this job," he told Sheppard and the boy looked at him uncertain as to what in particular he was getting at. "You put the welfare of all others before yourself," Jed pointed out.

"You are a part of the Air Force's elite, John. You are part of a group of men specially trained and equipped for all manner of combat rescue. It's up to you to get behind enemy lines, to find our people, John... dead or alive... and to bring our people home." John sat up straighter, giving his teacher all of his attention.

"Nobody gets left behind..." he muttered aloud, but it was a rogue thought and Jed knew it.

This kid had something inside him - a fear of unknown proportions - that caused him to be nearly obsessive about not leaving people behind. Falcone figured it probably stemmed from a personal fear of being left behind and probably had something to do with the kid's past... whatever it was that brought him here to begin with, he imagined.

Jed could empathize completely with the meaning behind that promise, even if he didn't understand where it was borne from inside this young kid.

"We don't leave people behind, John... ever." The big man stared into those grey eyes until John understood that Jed meant him too. Sheppard nodded, emotion tensing the muscles of his jaw.

John went back to stuffing supplies into the pack he was working on and Falcone continued to regard him thoughtfully. The kid had mettle and a strength-of-will and spirit that Jed had seen in few men in his entire life.

To look at his scrawny, gangly self no one would think John Sheppard capable of all that he'd already accomplished in his young life, including the grueling seventeen months of intense special operations training that was required with both the Army and Navy Special Ops units, as well as the Air Force qualifications.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sheppard had not only completed, but had exceled in, training evolutions that brought him all over the country - and through his own hell and back again - including ten weeks in the Pararescuer Indoctrination Course at Lackland AFB before doing a total of twelve weeks with the Army special training units. From Florida to Georgia to Arizona and Washington state, he took part in the Airborne Parachutist School , Combat Divers School and the Army Military Freefall Parachutist School .

In between all of that, John also completed his mandatory one day of training at the Navy Underwater Egress School and two and half weeks at the Air Force Basic Survival School.

Once he successfully completed those courses, John then had to spend five and a half months at the Special Operations Combat Medic Course at Fort Bragg to earn his paramedic qualifications and then he was off to Kirtland AFB in New Mexico for another five months in the Pararescue Recovery Specialist Course.

Nearly two years of training, which included scaling mountainsides, jumping out of airplanes, escaping from submerged aircraft and going out on runs with local paramedics, all culminated at Kirtland. Yet with all that he had to focus on while at the Kirtland base, Sheppard had seen the HH-60 Pave Hawk and CV-22 Osprey pilots receiving their training and the wide-eyed boy realized at that moment what he really wanted to do.

He wanted to fly.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

If there was one thing that John Sheppard had learned about himself in nineteen months of intense training, it was that persistence and determination were his best tools for successfully making it through the toughest times of his life. He also learned that he could tolerate intense pain and injury and still perform to the standards of his given task. Put simply, he learned that anything is possible when you want it bad enough.

Those were the things that John had learned about himself, but having known John Sheppard had taught Jed Falcone a thing or two as well.

One thing the older veteran had learned, without question, was that it was impossible to tell, at first glance, which recruits would stay the course and succeed and which would fall. If he had met this frail looking kid two years ago he would've definitely judged him as a "no go", but one thing the kid had shown him conclusively was that you didn't need to be a muscle-bound hulk to do the job.

~~~~~~*~~~~~~

_"On the contrary, you've got to have the smarts and you got to have the heart,"_ he'd mentioned to Teddy and Wilks one night over a beer. _"It seems to me that it's not the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog that counts. Pararescue is a thinking man's game, boys... you can be strong as a bull, but you gotta be smarter than a tractor to pull it off."_

_"I dunno, Jed. Ya' just don't look at the kid and see a camouflaged commando,"_ Teddy smirked with a slow shake of his head.

_"Nope, I'll give ya' that,"_ Jed agreed, _"but he's got what matters most; a tight-jawed determination, tenacity... a stubborn streak a mile wide and the stongest will to never give up that I've ever seen. That, and courage, will take a person a long, long way from home."_

_~~~~~~*~~~~~~_

Unlike other Spec Ops operatives, PJ's don't _'search and destroy'_, their mission is to _'search and save'. _A PJ can be a downed pilot's best friend, and the bad guy's worst enemy; and he's just as accurate with a 9mm pistol as he is with a syringe. One minute, they're subduing an enemy patrol and the next minute, they're jump-starting a heart with a defib unit.

John Sheppard was a PJ, heart and soul. He was as tough as they come, but he had a whole lot of compassion to dole out. "I'm just not into the whole death and destruction thing, and blowing stuff up. I just want to get in and get them out … no fuss, no muss," he told Falcone one quiet night. "I mean... I'll fight if I have to... but I'd rather not have to."

"I know, kid," Jed agreed with a knowing nod. "You're a good kid, John... you got a big heart. You understand what this job is all about. Some look at you and see a frail skinny kid... but I've seen you in action. You're not one to raise the white flag the moment the enemy sticks out his head and yells _'boo!'_. You... like all of us... are just as skilled in taking lives as you are at saving them. Unfortunately, John, sometimes you have to do bad stuff to get the good guy out."

John understood that, as much as he didn't like it. The entire philosophy behind all the rigorous training he'd gone through boiled down to one thing — the more you sweat in training, the less you bleed in combat. In the process of that training he'd become an expert marksman, an accomplished parachutist, a mountain climber, scuba diver and a certified emergency medical technician paramedic. And now his sights were set on flying.

He lay awake at night, staring up at the ceiling with a crooked grin on his face, thinking about commanding his own aircraft and flying into enemy territory. Going places where no other pilots would dare to go... and bringing the troops home. He thought about the one time that his team had gone out on a SAR mission, taking fire as they closed in on the area where a Ranger had last been seen... and the pilot wanted to abort the mission.

The PJ unit was able to keep the pilot on course and were able to deploy and accomplish their mission, but John had realized at that moment that all the training and determination to do their job wasn't enough... they had to have pilots, at all times, willing to go that extra mile.

Without a willing pilot, every mission had the potential to be scrapped despite the team's willingness to risk it all. John vowed that he'd never be that type of pilot. He would always go the extra mile, he would always get in and get them out and he would always bring them home.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * Three years later * ~ * ~ * ~ *

December 20, 1989

Operation Just Cause

A Joint Special Operations Task Force, consisting of the Army's 75th Ranger Regiment, Army Special Forces, Navy SEALs and Special Boat Units, was called upon to spearhead a special operation codenamed JUST CAUSE - their mission, to remove Panamanian General Manuel Noriega from power. These task forces were supported by Army Special Operations helicopters as well as USAF air commando units.

This Joint Operation consisting of Army, Air Force and Navy personnel exhibited overwhelming combat power during the invasion of Panama . They were commissioned to capture Noriega and render the Comandancia, the headquarters of the Panama Defense Forces, useless. One unit of Pararescuers was assigned to effect a rescue of a single American captive being held within the walls of Modelo Prison, adjacent to the Comandancia, while the raid on the Defense Force's headquarters was under way.

Staff Sgt. John Sheppard and the rest of Falcone's unit were assigned to infiltrate the Panamanian prison and retrieve the American citizen being held captive there. They were part of a special task force that included SOF helicopters and AC-130 gunships. Along with Task Force GATOR, which consisted of M-113 armored personnel carriers and soldiers from the 4th Battalion, 6th Infantry, Mechanized division the assault began at 0045hrs on December 20.

TF GATOR was responsible for moving the M-113s into blocking positions around the Comandancia and the prison, and then, in conjunction with the AC-130 and AH-6 gunships, they would attack and level the PDF headquarters.

While maneuvering to their blocking positions, they came under increasingly heavy sniper fire from PDF soldiers positioned in and around the buildings - including a 16-story high rise - on the west side of the Comandancia, where the prison complex was located.

Task Force GATOR suffered several wounded, and one soldier was killed, while moving to their blocking positions. Near the target, GATOR encountered roadblocks which the M-113s easily squashed but were able to simply move around others. Heavy enemy fire, coming from various directions, continued to rain down on them as the armored personnel carriers began their assault on the Comandancia.

At 0045, AC-130s and AH-6s assigned to the Joint Task Force began firing upon the Comandancia area. The PDF soldiers layed down heavy fire and were able to shoot down the lead AH-6, but its crew managed to complete a controlled crash in the courtyard outside the enemy's headquarters. And as it turned out, they ended up in the wrong place at the worst possible time, as the AC-130s pounded the Comandancia from the air.

By keeping their wits about them, the crew was able to evade both enemy and friendly fire for over two hours and finally made it to the back wall of the courtyard where they ended up capturing a PDF soldier. They then climbed the wall, and linked up with a GATOR blocking position. By that time, the buildings in the compound were fully ablaze, and the smoke from the fires obscured the area for the AC-130 firing on enemy targets.

One GATOR element was fired upon by an American AC-130, wounding twelve soldiers. A second AC-130 volley about an hour later wounded nine more. At first, the soldiers were under the belief that they were under attack by enemy mortars, but during the second volley, they realized the fire power was coming from their own AC-130 and radioed out, through the fire support network, to cease fire.

During the GATOR attack on the Comandancia, a rescue force, including Staff Sgt. John Sheppard and his Pararescue unit, entered the prison to find the American citizen. The team came under attack within the close quarters of the prison building. A dozen or so PDF soldiers were hiding in wait for the team.

They made their way down the darkened corridors of the damaged building, the sounds of rocket propelled grenades, ground fire and gun fire from overhead flights deafeningly loud on the other side of the brick and mortar walls. Falcone's unit broke into two three-man search teams while their leader held point, keeping his weapon aimed ahead of them as he waited for his team to sweep the prison levels.

Sheppard, Mitch and Teddy systematically swept and cleared the left side while Dex, Wilks and Oliver took the right. Coming upon a solid door indicating restroom and shower facilities, Sheppard halted and signaled for his teammates to take up support positions. Once Mitch and Teddy were in place, John slowly pushed through the door, his weapon high and tight to his shoulder as he moved into the main room of the private area.

He peered around the corner of a stone partition that separated the toilet facilities from the shower area as Mitch and Teddy kept his six clear to both sides. A shot rang out and the wall beside his head shattered, pelting John with debris and plaster dust. He ducked, startled for a moment, then sprang up again firing bursts into the hole where the insurgents were hiding in ambush. Teddy and Mitch quickly moved in to back him up and to add firepower to Sheppard's assault on the enemy combatants.

Less than two minutes from initial entry, the three man team had taken down the four insurgents and left them lying in pools of their own blood, the stench of carbines and gunpowder choked the air and Sheppard gave the signal for the team to back out the way they'd come in. Back in the main corridor, Falcone and the second half of the team waited expectantly, to either assist if needed or give a thumbs-up in relief when their friends returned safely. Once thumbs were raised and the signal was given to move on, the PJ's moved forward with single-minded purpose.

The rescue team encountered two more groups of PDF soldiers inside the prison walls and took them all down with skilled efficiency. On the third floor they encountered no resistance and quickly found and secured the captive American.

Once they'd located and freed their imprisoned countryman, Master Sgt. Falcone and Sgt. Wilks led the team on point out of the building. Sheppard and Mitch half-dragged/half-carried the rescued American between them while Dex, Teddy and Oliver covered the team's six.

The unit took heavy fire as they exited the building, running full bore for the waiting chopper. The rescued prisoner stumbled and fell in the courtyard under heavy barrage, taking Shep and Mitch down onto the cobblestone with him. Dex, Teddy and Oliver covered them, as Wilks ran back to assist, and Falcone made it to the waiting chopper, shouting back for his men and laying down his own cover fire from his position near the chopper's skid.

Another gunship came in to assist in laying down fire on the enemy positions overhead and the team of PJs split up. Falcone, Sheppard and Mitch, along with their recovered American, scrambled aboard the first touched-down helo. Teddy continued to cover Wilks, Dex and Oliver as they climbed aboard the second helo after covering the lift off of the first unit.

The helicopter carrying Falcone's group and the former prisoner was shot down just after take off and crashed in an alley to the north of the prison. Everyone on board the helicopter, except the former prisoner, was injured to one degree or another and the PJ rescue force reacted as they had been trained to. They formed a defensive position within and around their downed chopper, protecting the helicopter crew and their rescued civilian they contacted the nearest GATOR blocking element and were evacuated by M-113 armored personnel carriers.

Task Force GATOR kept the Comandancia isolated during the day of 20 December 1989 and continued receiving sporadic sniper fire throughout the day. That afternoon, Company C of the 3rd Battalion, 75th Ranger Regiment, led by the company commander Major Mason Richter, arrived from Omar Torrijos International Airport to clear out the Comandancia and surrounding area.

A few years later, a newly commissioned Special Ops Air Force pilot, Capt. John Sheppard, would save Richter's life on the streets of Mogadishu during Operation Gothic Serpent, as the legendary battle in the streets of Somalia would unfurl around the two young officers; the Army Ranger and the Air Force PJ.


	2. Chapter 2 These Things We Do

_**Title: "That Others May Live" **_

_**Chapter Two - These Things We Do**_

_**Author: **__ltcoljsheppard_

_**Rating:**__ PG _

_**Word Count:**__ 1986_

_**Summary: **__This is the continued recounting of the history and back story of John Sheppard, who began his career as a young Airman in the US Air Force's elite unit known as Para-rescue Jumpers and ended up, years later,, commanding the military contingent of an intergalactic expeditionary force to the Pegasus Galaxy. _

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own the character John Sheppard, Mitch or Dex, nor anything else having to do with Stargate: Atlantis. There is no profit made by writing and sharing this story and no offense is ever intended toward the characters mentioned or the Stargate franchise owners, creators or characters. _

_**__ The characters of Mason Richter, Teddy, Oliver, Wilks and Jed Falcone and any other non-recognized supporting characters are the creation of the author and do not belong to the Stargate franchise or its affiliates. _

_________________________________________________________________________ _

_"It is my duty as a Para-Rescue man to save life and aid the injured. I will be prepared at all times to perform my assigned duties quickly and efficiently, placing these duties before personal desires and comforts. These things I do, that others may live."_

_- The PJ Creed_

________________________________________________________________________

August 1990 - April 1991

~ * ~

On the 2nd day of August 1990, the Iraqi Army invaded and occupied the small neighboring country of Kuwait. In response to that aggressive show of force by Iraq upon the weaker nation, the United States initiated Operation Desert Shield. This initiative called upon the resources of the United States and coalition forces to deploy to the Middle East in order to free the tiny nation of Kuwait from Iraqi forces, as well as protect worldwide interests in Saudi Arabia, just over the border from Iraq.

Jed gathered his boys around in the cool hangar. They'd been calling the large bay area home for the past four months as they waited for a new assignment out of their base in Kandahar in Afghanistan. They all appeared eager and in high spirits, certain that this was going to be the news they'd been waiting for.

Falcone stood before them and considered each and every one of his men as his eyes settled on them one at a time. Letting his gaze linger on the youngest of his team, now a Staff Sergeant at the ripe old age of 24, John Sheppard had become like a son to him and Jed gave him a slight smile as he contemplated the announcement he was preparing to make.

"Boys... we got our orders," he said simply and those five words triggered a flurry of responses as the tight-knit unit practically hooted and cheered. Dex and Teddy high-fived each other and Mitch simply smiled and nudged Sheppard with his elbow which caused the younger man to grin as well. "Okay, okay, let's settle down," Falcone requested and once he had their attention again, he shared the assignment with them… they were heading to the Iraqi border.

The PJ unit had been assigned to work with the Army's Special Operation Air Support units, jointly tagged as Task Force 3/160, which began its deployment on September 3, 1990. The unit was based at King Khalid International Airport, soon to be known as King Khalid Military City (KKMC) which sat 35 kilometers north of Riyadh, the capital of Saudi Arabia.

This specialized unit consisted of numerous aircraft from the US Army's 2nd and 3rd Battalions of the Ranger SOARS 160 Special Air Operations units and John Sheppard would find himself, once again, right at home aboard any one of the Army's elite helicopter flights.

Young Sheppard had gained an enormous fondness for the large, thrumming aircraft and Jed often had to send Mitch or Dex or Oliver to rescue the chopper ground crews from John's constant hovering. The crew chiefs honestly didn't seem to mind the young man's enthusiasm to learn everything he could possibly learn about the helos and the science of flight in general. His bright-eyed eagerness and extreme attentiveness during the impromptu lectures from a grease-covered mechanic actually brightened the days, and evenings, for many of the crew members who otherwise found only monotony in the routine of their jobs.

When the air war finally commenced four months later, in January 1991, TF 3/160 had been assigned two missions. The first mission was two-fold, to provide air support in the form of MH-47 helicopters to support the pre-H-hour attack on the Iraqi air defense ground control intercept locations and to refuel the AH-64 Apache attack helicopters from the 101st Airborne Division Air Assault.

Their second mission was to forward deploy units to Rafha, a small town in the northern region of Saudi Arabia, close to the Iraq border. From that location their task force units were to conduct Combat Search and Rescue missions into Iraqi territories in order to locate and retrieve any downed allied pilots and injured ground combatants. It would be this forward deployment that would bring the most interest to Sheppard and his friends.

Among the missions Master Sergeant Falcone and his PJ unit performed, one in particular was a rescue of a downed F-16 pilot. The man had been located in a very hostile area of Iraq and the mission involved engaging and destroying enemy forces that were in close proximity to the survivor as well as retrieving him and bringing him home.

As was the protocol, as soon as the rescue helo was airborne the pilot, Capt. Henry Ross, contacted AWACS, the Airborne Warning and Control System. The aircraft was patrolling the area to make their presence known as a friendly unit. These SOARs units were bad-ass high-action kind of guys and John found working with them about as exciting as any job a PJ could have.

The missions aboard a SOARs Blackhawk was an adrenaline rush and, although his blood poured through his veins as they traversed the desert landscape barely a few meters off the deck at incredibly high speeds, Sheppard simply looked out the open crew door with a serious glint in his eyes. It was an exciting rush he'd learned to nurse deep down but kept his outward demeanor calm and concentrated, just as any veteran who'd borne the burdens of such dire missions before.

Following the course established by the plotting team, the Blackhawk passed directly over their missing man but, in the darkness of the desert night, even with their night vision goggles on, the team was unable to spot him. Of course, to be fair, they were traveling at night, at 140 knots and an altitude of twenty feet.

The team members inside the Hawk continued to scan the ground below, hanging onto the chopper's body, and bits of assemblies or netting, anything to keep from falling out of the bird. The pilot pushed and pulled on the controls, yanking and banking and literally surfing the sand dunes in the pitch black of night. Sheppard kept his eyes on the ground as best he could, his peripheral thoughts registering the exhilaration of what it must be like to be at the controls of such a craft flying maneuvers like this.

When the downed pilot on the ground watched the shadowed image of the Blackhawk circling around and realized his rescuers were having difficulty locating his position he activated his infrared beacon, which Capt. Ross spotted immediately. Giving a shout out to the rescuers sitting on the floor behind him, he maneuvered the Blackhawk in a wide lazy arc, turning back to retrace his flight path and headed straight for the downed pilot.

The flight path was diverted, however, when Capt. Ross was alerted to the fact that his aircraft had been spotted by Iraqi radar and was now being illuminated. "Son of a bitch --" Ross was heard to say over their headsets and John looked toward the cockpit just as the chopper pitched sharply without warning.

He and Wilks nearly tumbled out of the open door of the Hawk as the helo pitched hard to their side. Dex and Mitch, anchored on the bulkhead behind them, reached out to keep their brothers inside the ship. John got his butt back on the deck and threw a nod of thanks to Dex who slapped him on the back with a laugh. John took a deep breath and let it out with a smile as the relief of that near mishap was averted.

"We are lit up, boys!" Ross called back. "We got one shot at this!"

The unit sitting in the cargo area of the Blackhawk looked at each other gravely. Dex looked over Mitch's shoulder at Falcone as if asking their leader for guidance. Jed held his gaze for a moment, knowing what he needed but not wanting to say it.

"Give it up, boys! We can't touch down!" the pilot called back.

"You have to!" Sheppard called back. "We can't leave him here, he's right beneath us!"

Dex settled his hand on John's shoulder and leaned toward him so he could see him as he spoke. "That's not what he meant, Shepp. Give it up means 'make a decision'." John nodded realizing the message was make a decision quick because we need to beat feet out of here.

Falcone leaned toward his boys and shouted over the rotor noise. "We need our fastest runners!"

Dex called back to him, even though Jed already knew who his fastest sprinters were. "That's Oliver, Wilks and Sheppard!"

Falcone nodded his agreement and looked to the door where Wilks and Sheppard were already in position to leap to the ground. He had to push his personal feelings aside to make the most logical professional decision. "Sheppard and Wilks!" he yelled to Dex who gave a nod.

Dex leaned forward between the two young men and laid his hands on their shoulders. "It's up to you boys. Go get him!"

Sheppard and Wilks nodded to Dex and then shared a look before turning their attention back to the dark ground below. The Hawk banked and pitched again and pulled up its nose as the pilot rolled it slightly to the rightside to assist the jumpers in exiting the bird. Dex gave their shoulders a slight push to signal and the two young PJs vaulted from the safety of the helicopter.

They hit the ground and Wilks stumbled on a grassy covered berm that was indistinguishable from the chopper. He went down on one knee and recovered quickly to follow Sheppard as he zig-zagged through the uneven terrain. A few yards and they ran right into the pilot who had run toward them when he saw their silhouettes drop from the hovering aircraft.

"Got him!" Wilks shouted into his earpiece mike as he and John grabbed each of the man's sleeves and hauled the disoriented pilot along with them.

"_Roger that. Be advised, we've got ground contact… closing in on your position," _Ross informed them just as bullets whizzed past their heads.

"Thanks for the warning!" Wilks shouted and picked up speed.

Sheppard had let go of the pilot's arm and sprinted ahead to a clear area to wave the Hawk back down from its evasive circling overhead. "Let's go!" he called back to his partner and then pulled his weapon up to aim as the movement of enemy combatants looking for the downed pilot came into view.

He fired at the insurgents as Wilks dragged their recovered personnel to his position. Behind him the Blackhawk settled to hover a few feet off the ground as a team of Rangers poured out to cover their egress. Sheppard and Wilks climbed aboard with the pilot as the Rangers laid down suppressing fire on the enemy then they turned back and climbed on, continuing to fire at the ground as the Hawk made a beeline out of the area.

Onboard the helo John sat back heavily against the bulkhead opposite the open door and shared a relieved chuckle with his friends who celebrated another successful mission. Jed leaned down from his seat to grab John's shoulders and shook him in delight then gave the kid a quick heartfelt hug as he wrapped his arm around John's helmeted head.

"Kid, you're gonna be the death of me!" Jed scolded him.

John smiled with a slight flush to his cheeks that a father's pride should put there but never did. Jed Falcone was like a father to him though and John enjoyed the man's leadership and guidance as well as his friendship. He loved the military - he loved the life and the camaraderie and the missions… and he loved to fly.

One day, he thought as he looked up at the window to the dawning purplish sky, one day he'd be flying his own ship. _One day._


End file.
